


i come alive when i hear your voice

by thepriestthinksitsthedevil (stubliminalmessaging)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker Louis Tomlinson, Deaf Character, Harry Paints His Nails, Louis in Makeup, M/M, Mute Harry, Pining, Single Parent Louis, Songwriter Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/thepriestthinksitsthedevil
Summary: Harry let out a satisfied sigh and sat back in his cushioned office chair. He looked down at his laptop and tapped his fingers against his bottom lip in contemplation. He was fairly pleased with what he’d finished so far on his latest project; he just needed to fine-tune some bits and then send it off to his management for their approval. He sent his coworkers an e-mail giving them commenting rights on the document for any constructive criticism they might have, and cringed when his stomach let out an unholy gurgle.Aka: Harry the mute songwriter falls in love with the single dad working at the bakery down the street from his studio





	i come alive when i hear your voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelouistiti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelouistiti/gifts).



> okay so i LOVED writing this fic. thank you so much for prompting this from me because i had so much fun plotting this fic out and writing it! i tried to work in as many of the things from your list of extras as i could so hopefully you enjoy it! :)
> 
> thanks to [kit, a straight up g,](http://mymomthinksitstheflu.tumblr.com/) for the last minute beta!

Harry let out a satisfied sigh and sat back in his cushioned office chair. He looked down at his laptop and tapped his fingers against his bottom lip in contemplation. He was fairly pleased with what he’d finished so far on his latest project; he just needed to fine-tune some bits and then send it off to his management for their approval. He sent his coworkers an e-mail giving them commenting rights on the document for any constructive criticism they might have, and cringed when his stomach let out an unholy gurgle.

 

A glance at the clock on his computer had him frowning, and his stomach made another ugly sound as he did the math and realized that he hadn’t moved or taken a break for the past nine hours. This happened to Harry often; he’d become so focused while he was working that he would block out the outside world for hours at a time. It meant he was very productive and continued to churn out incredible songs for his management to sell to musicians, but it also meant that he worked well into the night (or, Harry reflected as he squinted at his screen, the morning,  _ shit _ ) and had absolutely no sleep schedule. He also regularly forgot to feed himself, resulting in the kind of achy tummy he had at that moment.

 

Shutting his laptop, Harry stretched out in his chair one more time before he got to his feet and left his office at the studio where he worked. There probably weren’t that many places open before six on a Sunday morning, but Harry was sure he would find  _ somewhere _ where he could buy something to fill his belly before he headed home.

 

As Harry made his way to the front door of the building, he remembered that his coworkers often went to a cafe that was just down the street from the studio. Zayn was good friends with the people who ran the place and Perrie hung out with the baker on a regular basis. Bakers were always up getting their day started in the wee hours of the morning, so Harry headed in the direction of the café.

 

He saw soft lights on from inside the café which bolstered his hope, and the wind chime poised above the door tinkled as Harry pushed it open. Harry took a quick look around as he stepped inside, immediately charmed by the mismatched furniture scattered near the windows, soft lighting provided by an assortment of lamps and a large chandelier suspended from the ceiling right inside the door. It made Harry feel warm and cozy and it smelled  _ wonderful _ , like coffee and warm buttery pastries and familiar spices that made him think of home.

Harry took slow steps up to the counter, reading the hand-written chalkboard menu boards. A door swung open behind the counter and from it emerged a man in his early twenties wearing an apron over a plain white t-shirt. He stopped at the register and pushed his glasses up his nose, smudging them with some residual baking stuff on his hand.

 

“Morning!” he chirped, grinning at Harry. “How’re you doing?”

 

Harry grimaced and made a so-so hand gesture. Niall, according to the nametag pinned to his shirt that Harry only just noticed, laughed loudly and heartily. “So what can I get for you?”

 

Normally, Harry would get out a pad of paper and write his order down for him, but in his rush to get out of the studio and get some food in his belly, he had forgotten to bring anything to write with or on. He floundered a moment, gesturing weakly with his hands to try and convey his message. Niall’s eyebrows rose and then furrowed in confusion as time passed as Harry continued to fail to communicate with him.

 

“Are you… choking?” Niall asked. “Do you need medical attention?”

 

Harry shook his head violently. He gestured to his mouth and then made an x with both of his hands. Niall cocked his head and frowned, and Harry drew his pointer finger across his neck. Niall stared for another moment and Harry sighed deeply before he lit up.

 

“Wait just one second,” he told Harry. “I know who can help.”

 

Niall disappeared into the door he’d entered from and left Harry standing there feeling awkward for a moment. When he returned, he was telling another man about Harry and how he couldn’t talk and the man was nodding and speaking to him in a soft, quiet voice. He nodded with finality and stepped up to the register, wiping his hands on his apron. He smiled at Harry and it was nothing short of radiant. He had a smudge of flour on his cheek and his eyes crinkled at the sides.

 

Louis, according to his nametag, started speaking and it took Harry a moment to tear his eyes away from the striking cut of his cheekbones to notice that he was signing along with his words. Harry missed the beginning of it but he caught the last few signs and deduced that Louis was asking him what he wanted to order.

 

Harry fumbled with his signs but managed to order a turkey bacon club on a ciabatta with extra honey mustard and a large London fog. Louis rattled off his order back to him to confirm it and Harry gave him a thumbs up, making the other man smile again. When he looked down at the register screen to punch in the order Harry found himself entranced by the shimmery shadow spread on Louis’ eyelids, gold with a hint of pink that nearly matched his skin tone enough to almost look natural. Harry couldn’t tell if Louis was wearing highlighter along the tops of his cheekbones or if his sweat had settled perfectly to give him a gorgeous glow.

 

“Are you going to be staying here or taking it to go?” Louis asked, signing along with his words one-handed while he got started on Harry’s drink. “You work at the studio with Zayn and Liam, right?”

 

Harry signed a letter y and pushed it away from his body towards the floor for the sign ‘stay,’ and waited for Louis to look up from where he’d been pouring before he kept signing. He told Louis that he did work there, and that he drank coffee and ate pastries from here frequently thanks to his coworkers.

 

“Zayn is one of my best mates,” Louis commented, sliding Harry’s London fog across the counter in its tall ceramic mug. “Known him since high school and we used to live together,” he explained, voice light and airy as he spoke.

 

Harry found himself loving the metre and the rhythm of Louis’ speech. He worked with singers every day, people with incredible voices, but he found Louis’ speaking voice so comforting and he was so fond of it immediately, which made him hang on every word. Louis was only telling Harry about how he had Perrie over at least once a week to binge shitty reality TV and eat ice cream in their underwear, but despite how mundane it was, Harry loved every syllable the man spoke. His eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he focused on the sandwich he was constructing on the worktop in front of him, and Harry found himself entranced.

 

They chatted a bit - as much as they could with Harry unable to communicate unless Louis was looking up from his work - and in just those few minutes Harry learned a sparse few details about Louis that just made him all the more interested. Louis was friendly enough but vague and every little slightly personal comment was like a delicious sweet crumb that had Harry hungry for more. Not the least important detail that Harry was trying to fish for was whether or not Louis was single and if he was looking.

 

Too soon, Louis was presenting Harry with a plate containing a frankly artistic sandwich piled high with shaved turkey, greasy crunchy bacon, and perfectly crisp lettuce. Harry signed a thank you to Louis and took his plate and his mug to a seat in the corner of the café near enough to the counter that he could hear Niall and Louis chattering mildly as Louis tidied up.

 

Harry’s secret plan to eavesdrop on their conversation and learn more little things about Louis ended up being in vain when twenty seconds into eating his breakfast (incredibly late dinner?) Louis disappeared back through the door behind the counter and did not reemerge for the ten minutes Harry spent eating, the fifteen minutes he spent sipping his drink, or the ensuing half an hour he spent playing with his phone waiting to see if Louis would eventually come back out.

 

When he thought guiltily of the partially finished projects sitting on his computer at the studio, he gave up and gathered up his dishes to bring back to the counter. Though another artist absolutely could bring their work to a coffee house and get a lot done, Harry knew that he would inevitably get distracted, and would spend most of his day looking up every other second to see if Louis had returned from the back room of the café. A public place was not a productive setting for Harry,  _ especially _ not one with such a distraction as Louis in it.

 

Harry brought his empty mug and plate back to the counter and placed it next to the register. As he was turning to leave, Niall burst out from the door behind the counter and thrust a paper bag across the counter to Harry.

 

“These just came out of the oven!” he panted, as if he’d rushed up to catch Harry before he left. “They’re almond croissants. Lou wants you to take a couple to try. But he says you have to eat them warm.”

 

Harry blinked at the bag in Niall’s hand, then reached out and took it. He smiled at Niall and nodded his thanks, and waved to let Niall know he was leaving. Niall waved back and made sure that he knew he was welcome to come back anytime, and Harry left, disappointed that Louis had not made a reappearance to give him the treats himself.

 

Harry went back to work and it wasn’t until a couple hours later when some of Harry’s coworkers strolled into the studio and Jesy came in to say hey to him that he remembered he had the croissants stuffed into his messenger bag. Jesy wandered into the room, chatting to him and waiting on his replies using a text to speech program while she poked around in his bag and tugged the paper bag out.

 

“What kind are these? Almond?” Jesy asked, bringing the bag up to her face and taking a deep sniff. “Who finally converted you? Zayn? Perrie?”

 

Harry frowned and signed a question mark, watching Jesy pluck a bit of the flaky pastry off one of the croissants to pop it in her mouth. He felt irrationally territorial over the pastries; Louis had given them to him on the house and Jesy hadn’t  _ asked _ and she didn’t  _ know _ . Louis gave them to him as a special treat and if she’d asked Harry probably would have offered her some but she  _ hadn’t _ and - Harry felt his panic settle as she folded the bag back up and placed the croissants on the edge of his desk.

 

_ i went to the bakery for the first time for breakfast and louis gave me those _ , Harry explained using a text to speech app he had on his phone.

 

“You must be special,” Jesy mused. She smirked. “Louis only gives free stuff to little kids. And boys he thinks are fit.”

 

Harry flushed and kept his head down to type on his phone so he wouldn’t have to see Jesy’s face.  _ i didn’t think i looked that young _

 

“Whatever you say, H,” Jesy chuckled. She stood up straight from where she’d leaned her bum back against his desk, and bid him farewell before she headed off to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea.

 

Harry eyed the bag of croissants when she left it. He squinted at the paper bag perched on the edge of his desk and then rolled his desk chair slowly over to snatch it up. He unfolded the top, conscious of how loud the paper seemed in the silence of his office, and pulled both of the desserts out. There were golden and crispy looking and Harry carefully plucked at the end of the dough until a piece came off. He popped it in his mouth and slumped in his chair, sighing as the delicate pastry practically melted on his tongue.

 

What felt like two seconds later Harry was dabbing at the last crumb after inhaling the two croissants. He briefly contemplated licking the residue off the bag and knew he absolutely had to go back to the bakery. He couldn’t resist cute bakers who signed flawlessly to him and baked desserts like  _ that _ .

 

-

 

Harry visited the bakery at least once a day from then on, and each new time seemed to be a new learning experience in terms of getting to know Louis. It felt like every time he hung out and chatted with Louis while waiting for his food, he unlocked another new and fascinating tidbit about Louis’ life.

 

Harry dropped in on Sunday and ordered an artisan pizza with prosciutto and spinach. It was crispy and rustic and Harry gobbled it up in what felt like seconds and missed the taste of it once it was gone. He could see himself needing to go to the gym more if he made a habit of coming to this café, which seemed inevitable. While Louis put together his pizza on the worktop at the front counter, Harry learned that Louis knew Zayn and the rest of his friends at the studio because he and Zayn used to date. He ignored the weird flash of jealousy he felt upon learning this since it was wholly inappropriate given how he’d only just met Louis and how he loved Zayn like a brother. Louis explained with a shrug that they sort of grew out of wanting to date each other and mutually agreed that they should just be friends. He joked that the only difference between dating and being friends was the sex, which Harry  _ really _ didn’t need any encouragement to visualize.

 

The Tuesday after that, Harry ordered a bacon grilled cheese sandwich and a caramel latte and listened to Louis talk about his hometown and his army of younger siblings. He had a fierce love for his hometown of Doncaster and the local football team there. He got all soft and warm when he spoke about Donny, but that was nothing compared to the fond look that took over his face when he spoke about his family. Louis had the kind of huge family that Harry would like to have someday; a slew of younger siblings he clearly adored and a mother and stepfather who he idolized. Harry loved the family he had, of course, but all his life he wanted a big house and a bunch of kids to fill it.

 

“I want to have a bunch of kids, too,” Louis mused, stirring the caramel syrup into Harry’s latte. He slid it across the counter to Harry with a radiant smile. “So far I’ve only just got the one. Don’t know when I’ll be able to have more - I’m just so busy with this shop.”

 

Louis left Harry’s coffee on the counter and Harry couldn’t help but gawk. Louis had a  _ kid _ ?! Did that mean he was in a relationship? Was the mother still involved in his life? Did he have custody of his kid? How old was his kid? Surely not that old, since Louis couldn’t have been older than in his mid-twenties. Did Louis’ child share many of his features, or did they look more like their mother? Did they have Louis’ eyes or his cheekbones or the distinctive shape or his nose? Was Louis straight; was Harry making up the chemistry he felt between them and the flirting that he thought was happening? Did he imagine all the fond looks on Louis’ face and their easy companionship over Harry’s handful of visits to the café?

 

Before Harry could even think about attempting to subtly ask any of his questions, Louis bid him a good day and disappeared into the back room of the café once again. Harry took his time drinking his coffee and eating his sandwich but Louis did not reemerge and Harry ended up finishing his dinner (can it still be called dinner at 11:30 at night?) and going back to the studio, riddled with questions.

 

-

 

Louis turned Harry on to cold pressed juices during the second week of him frequenting the café. It was while Harry was drinking a mango carrot juice mixture that he met Jamie. Louis was just telling him about how he’d met Perrie from Little Mix, a girl band that Harry sold a lot of his songs to and who recorded at the studio where Harry worked, when the door to the café swung open and a child came barreling in.

 

The kid wasn’t much more than a brunette blur when he came running into the shop and Harry was concerned when he pulled open the half-door that allowed the employees to go into the dining area and prevented customers from going behind the counter. The little boy darted behind the counter and right past Niall, who had been stocking the display case with muffins. He laughed and grinned at the kid which made Harry feel less worried about why there was a child behind the counter, but when Louis spotted him his face positively lit up.

 

He collided with Louis’ legs, throwing his arms around his thighs. Louis laughed and crouched down to hug the boy, mussing his hair up and letting the child touch his face. When they pulled back from their hug and Louis lifted him up (though the child had to be seven or eight years old and a bit too big to lift up) Harry could see his incredible blue eyes and the shape of his nose and he knew that this was Louis’ son.

 

Harry found himself studying the little boy much more closely than he had before. Aside from similar facial features, the boy had the same straight brown hair as Louis, though it was much longer, a shoulder-length mop with Louis’ natural caramel highlights. Their smiles were also the same aside from the boy’s chubbier cheeks. Watching them interact made Harry feel warm and he could tell through their radiant smiles and tactile exchanges that they had a mutual love and affection and that Louis was a great father.

 

He also learned that day why Louis knew how to sign. Because he was watching Louis, like always, Harry missed what Louis’ son did to prompt Louis signing a  _ yes _ and then retrieving a cookie from the display case which he handed to his child.

 

He ate the cookie with one hand and signed  _ thank you _ with his other and Harry watched in amazement. Louis’ son had a hearing loss and that was why Louis knew how to sign, why he knew how to communicate with Harry so well.

 

While Harry was busy pondering this, Louis and his son came out from behind the counter and approached the table Harry was sitting at.  _ this is my friend _ , Louis signed to his son, whose attention was undivided and focused on his father. Louis finger-spelled out Harry’s name and Louis’ son looked up and waved at Harry, who signed a greeting to him.

 

“Harry,” Louis said, pulling Harry’s attention from where he’d been pulling faces at Louis’ son. “This is my son, Jamie.”

 

Harry greeted Jamie and introduced himself, and Jamie seemed pleased that Harry was signing to him. He went ahead and took a seat at Harry’s table anyways, which made Harry happy since a lot of kids tended to be shy around strangers. Louis got Jamie a tall glass of chocolate milk and threw in a couple of free cookies for Harry before he went back to work. Jamie sat with Harry and kicked his little legs and read his comic books and Harry couldn’t help but feel like part of the little family they clearly had established. Niall came over and said hey to Jamie and gave him treats and cuddles and Jamie seemed delighted and Harry yearned to reach that level of familiarity with Louis’ son.

 

He startled out of that thought when Jamie tugged on his sleeve and signed asking if he wanted to read one of his comic books. Harry smiled at the boy and asked for the coolest one, which the boy took very seriously, sorting through them and weighing his options with an earnest stern expression. Harry felt far too fatherly towards this boy and the time he caught Louis watching their interactions fondly from behind the counter only made him feel even more strongly.

 

-

 

It was a rare Friday night when Harry was working from home and Niall texted him at two o’clock in the morning in a panic.  _ h are you awake i need your help immediately _ . Harry sent Niall a series of question marks and Niall called him, which made Harry frown down at his phone. It rang out, because what else could it do?, and Niall texted him again.  _ sorry. forgot. i need you to come to this address asap _ , Niall said, followed by an address for an apartment complex halfway across town. Harry put some pants on and put the address into Google maps.

 

When Harry arrived at the apartment building he texted Niall to buzz him in, and when Niall did he hurried up to the flat number that Niall texted him. He knocked and clearly Niall had been waiting for him because he was there in a second, pulling the door open and ushering Harry inside.

 

“So I’m babysitting Jamie for Lou,” Niall began, which prompted Harry to glance around and take in the space around him. This was definitely Louis’ flat; little bits and pieces of his life littered each surface, from the mix of Louis-sized and Jamie-sized shoes in the entryway to the clean dry dishes stacked on the drying rack next to the sink. Family photos were scattered on end tables and the coffee table and Harry yearned to go over and look at them more closely but Niall was talking to him again. “But Jamie’s sick. He’s puking and I’m having trouble communicating with him.”

 

Harry got out his phone and used his text-to-speech app to talk to Niall.  _ did you call louis? _

 

“Louis’ out tonight; I didn’t expect him to answer his phone, and when I called him, he didn’t,” Niall explained. “That’s why I texted you. Jamie loves you and you’re good at talking to him. You need to help me sort this out.” Niall cringed a little. “If Jamie goes home to his mum talking about how Lou wasn’t there for him when he was sick, she’ll pull back on the visits that she lets Louis have. It’ll devastate him.”

 

Harry didn’t even need to think about it before agreeing to help. Even if Jamie wasn’t Louis’ son, Harry would want to do anything he could to make Jamie feel better. He’d spent quite a bit of time with Jamie during his visits to the café and he’d gotten quite attached to the boy. He did a quick Google search of things to do to help nausea and then rifled through Louis’ cupboards until he found half a sleeve of soda crackers. He filled a cup with water and took the supplies to Jamie’s room, which Niall directed him to.

 

The lights were off except for the lamp on Jamie’s bedside table and the white light made Jamie look pallid and a little green. He was curled up around a bucket, sweat shining on his upper lip and tear tracks down his cheeks. The acrid smell in the air told Harry that there was definitely vomit in that bucket. Harry’s heart ached and he immediately went to Jamie’s side, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing his hair back to tuck it behind his ear. With his other hand he signed, asking Jamie if he was going to be sick again. Jamie shook his head slowly, and his face crumpled as he started sobbing quietly.

 

Harry rubbed Jamie’s back for a moment and coaxed the bucket out of his arms. Jamie immediately lurched forward against Harry’s chest and Harry hugged him, passing the bucket back to Niall who took it and left the room, presumably to empty it into the toilet.

 

Jamie settled down after a few minutes, and soon he was just resting silently against Harry’s chest and sniffling every once in awhile. Harry pulled back enough that Jamie could see his hands and he signed to him, asking if he wanted to get cleaned up. Jamie nodded so Harry helped him crawl out of bed and pick some clean pyjamas so he wasn’t just laying around in his own sweat. Jamie took a quick shower and brushed his teeth while Harry changed his sheets.

 

Jamie returned to his room in his clean pyjamas and crawled under the clean cool sheets. He already looked better, less sweaty and pale.  _ you need to eat something. just a little _ , Harry signed, and Jamie sighed but nodded. He let Harry feed him a few crackers and some sips of water and then Niall brought in his iPad and they started watching a documentary about penguins, which Jamie apparently loved.

 

Half an hour into watching penguins slide around on ice and dive into water and Jamie was snoring softly against Harry’s shoulder. Harry carefully extricated himself from Jamie and turned the lamp off, leaving the door open a crack so that the kitchen light bled into his room a tiny bit.

 

“You’re gonna be a great dad, mate,” Niall observed when Harry joined him in the living room where he was watching an old episode of Friends with the volume turned down low. Harry couldn’t help but agree. He already felt something like a great dad, after only one night.

 

The next morning, Harry and Niall got up from where they’d slept in Louis’ bed (don’t even get Harry started on sleeping surrounded by Louis’ smell and imagining being curled up in the bed with him) and Niall made breakfast for them all. Jamie looked one hundred percent back to his normal self, munching away happily at the French toast Niall had made. His cheeks were pink and he was cheerful and Harry was pleased to see that a little extra care and some rest had him bouncing right back.

 

_ Your pigtails are not even _ , Harry observed to Jamie, smiling at him around a mouthful of food.

 

_ Can you fix them for me? _ Jamie asked after he put down his utensils. Harry finished his breakfast and put his dishes in the sink, then washed his hands. He then went to stand behind Jamie’s chair and carefully removed the elastics from his hair. He finger-combed the strands and split them into perfectly even halves, then put the elastics back in and pulled them tight. When he went to go sit back down in his chair Jamie beamed at him, a streak of syrup drying on his cheek and his hair in perfect pigtails.

 

_ I used to have long hair _ , Harry said to Jamie, holding his hand in a line under his collarbones to indicate how long it had been. Jamie gaped at him, and fumbled with his utensils in his haste to ask Harry for pictures. Harry took out his phone and showed Jamie some photos, of his hair long and curly against his shoulders, in messy buns, and in intricate braids that his sister put in for no other reasons than because she could. Jamie scrolled between the photos eagerly, big blue eyes glued to the screen.

 

_ I love your hair _ , Jamie told him, then Harry nearly went into cardiac arrest when Jamie asked him  _ Can you be my dad’s boyfriend? _

 

Niall watched them knowingly from across the table and Harry had to ignore his smug looks. He felt called out and exposed and Niall hadn’t even said a word, but he was too content with keeping that familiar smile on this child’s face, even while explaining that he and Louis were just friends, to let Niall’s judgement bother him. If Jamie was asking Harry to be Louis’ boyfriend, that had to mean that Louis was single, right? Hope bloomed in Harry’s heart and he would let nobody and nothing drag it down.

 

-

 

Louis had found out about it when he got home. He had seemed relieved that Harry and Niall had worked together to help his son, and that they hadn’t had to call his ex or had to take Jamie to the hospital.

 

“I appreciate you coming to the rescue and everything,” Louis had told him, sitting on the sofa with the penguin documentary playing on the TV so that Jamie could watch the rest of it. He had looked over at Harry, with Jamie sitting between them. “But why were you still awake at two o’clock in the morning?” He had sipped at his tea after he called Harry out, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t half as nonchalant a comment as Louis had wanted it to seem.

 

_ I was working _ , Harry had explained, and Louis had half laid into him. He had asked about Harry’s eating habits and his sleeping habits, neither of which had any sort of schedule to them. Harry had shrugged and signed ‘work,’ which apparently was not an adequate answer and had Louis declaring that he was from then on going to text Harry to make sure he was eating and sleeping at appropriate times.

 

Soon after that Louis discovered that Harry usually ignored his phone when he was working. At five o’clock in the morning. After ten hours of not eating. This led to Louis dropping in to the studio at 6am to bring Harry a sandwich and interrogate him on when he’d last slept. The first few days of this, Louis had been very consistent; he stopped by in the morning, around noon, and then in evening, and brought delicious and nutritious meals with him each time. Sometimes he even brought snacks for in-between periods and Harry appreciated the concern (he  _ loved _ the concern and the attention, actually) but Louis was giving him free stuff when he didn’t need to so Harry had to take a step to be more independent and pretend to be a real adult.

 

(Maybe that meant he went in to the café to buy food instead of having Louis bring it to him, not something mind-blowing like actually cooking his own meals, but it was still a lot of progress  _ for him _ . It also meant that he spent more time with Louis but no one needed to comment on that. No one else had house-made bagels like Louis did.)

 

-

 

Louis had decided one morning that he was going to make and sell pumpkin French toast at the café and Harry got the first portion of the day. The spices were perfectly balanced and Harry felt special and spoiled when Louis declared him the taste tester and gave him a plate on the house. As if he thought it would be anything less than delicious.

 

Niall brought Jamie in when he came in for his shift that morning and he was sleepy and cute, curling up on the couch next to Harry and snoozing against his shoulder. They stayed like this for awhile, Harry eating his breakfast and drinking his tea and answering work e-mails on his phone while Jamie napped on him.

 

This went on for about an hour before Louis came out from behind the counter with a plate of scrambled eggs and a glass of chocolate milk which he put down in front of Jamie. The boy rubbed at his eyes and sat up, yawning and digging into his breakfast. He paused a moment and tapped at Harry’s arm gently, getting Harry’s attention and then signing to him.  _ Is my dad your friend? _

 

Harry nodded and Jamie kept going.  _ You should come over for lunch and a tea party. All Perrie and Zayn and Niall are my dad’s friends and they come over for lunch and tea parties. _

 

Louis watched this exchange and chuckled. “Sorry kiddo, you can’t just tell people they’re coming over. Harry is busy and probably hasn’t got time,” Louis said, signing along with his words.

 

_ Actually, I make my own schedule _ , Harry said, looking at Jamie.  _ When are you free? _

 

Louis’ eyebrows remained arched up towards his hairline the entire time Harry and Jamie ironed out the details of the upcoming tea party, but Harry could tell he was amused. Later, when Jamie was busy reading, Harry asked Louis if he was okay with their plan and he shrugged and said “it’ll be fun!” so Harry assumed he was okay with it.

 

Judging by the sheer buffet of desserts and tea sandwiches that Louis had laid out by the time Harry arrived at his flat, ‘okay’ was an understatement for how he felt about it. The coffee table in the living room was barely visible past the plates and plates of food and the mismatched teacups and saucers laid out for them. Louis let Harry in, stunning Harry by how adorable he looked in his plain black framed glasses, and had him take a seat on the couch.

 

“Jamie’s just in his room getting ready,” Louis explained, smile on his face. “He takes tea party outfits very seriously.”

 

_ Am I underdressed? _ Harry asked, gesturing to the loud floral dress shirt he had worn. He took in the finely knitted jumper in reds and purples that Louis was wearing, paired with skinny jeans and mismatched socks on feet he kept tucked under him in the armchair he sat in.

 

“No, you’re perfect,” Louis said, and the way he ducked his head and smiled made Harry think that there was a lot more weight to that statement than it seemed.

 

Jamie came strolling out from his room in a pair of jeans, a black and white striped t-shirt, and a flowy pink cardigan. His hair was long and loose and Harry smiled when he noticed Jamie wearing two different socks, imitating his dad. He sat down on the couch with Harry and plucked a cookie off one of the plates on the table, munching on it and smiling at the two guests at his party.

 

Louis took that as his prompt to pour them cups of tea, then he began offering them sugar and milk. He offered pickle juice and salt to Jamie, making him cover his face and giggle, and Jamie dared Louis to smear mayonnaise on a homemade jammy dodger and eat it. Louis exaggerated his disgusted face and Jamie was thrilled, laughing loudly.

 

Jamie patted at Harry’s arm until Harry looked at him, and began signing.  _ I like your nail polish _ . Harry had seen him eyeing the yellow polish on Harry’s nails earlier, so he wasn’t surprised.

 

Harry placed his open palm face-down near his lips and turned it over in Jamie’s direction, signing ‘thank you’ before he continued.  _ I can bring it with me next time _ . Jamie nodded happily.  _ Do you have any other colours? _

 

Harry knew Jamie had other colours because he’d seen him wearing different colours of polish on his nails during his visits to the café. The boy nodded eagerly and Harry said he should go get them so that Harry could see all the colours. When Jamie ran off to go get his nail polish, Harry caught Louis watching him, a fond smile on his face. He schooled it into a more neutral expression when he saw Harry looking, but Harry couldn’t forget the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled.

 

Jamie came back with a handful of bottles of nail polish for Harry’s inspection. Harry looked at the colours and asked Jamie which one was his favourite. Jamie picked up the deep blue bottle without hesitation and Harry took it from him.

 

_ Can you paint my nails for me? _ Jamie asked, and Harry smiled and nodded, taking one of Jamie’s hands and starting to paint his nails. Jamie was looking at him with stars in his eyes and when Harry finished up and looked over at Louis, he found that the other man was similarly awestruck. Harry took the blue polish to his own nails, painting both of his thumbnails blue.  _ Now we match _ , he said, and Jamie positively beamed.

 

They went back to snacking and sipping tea for a while after that. Harry showed Jamie some old photos of intricate braids that he’d done in his hair, and then he offered to braid Jamie’s hair for him. Jamie delightedly said yes and Harry got to work putting a French braid into Jamie’s hair. Jamie sat still as a statue for him but Louis was making faces at him and making him giggle, which Harry would have griped about playfully if he didn’t need both of his hands.

 

Harry finished the braid and tied it off with an elastic that Jamie had on his wrist. He hurried off to look at himself in the mirror, leaving Harry and Louis and the wonderful domestic atmosphere between them.

 

_ Jamie is a very special boy _ , Harry commented, thinking of times when he’d seen the boy taking interest in things that typically were reserved for little girls; liking princesses and playing with dolls and wearing clothes from the girls’ section of the department store. Harry connected with Jamie on that level. He had always liked feeling pretty and there was nothing wrong with wanting to look and feel feminine.

 

“He is,” Louis agreed. “I just want him to be happy.” He said, and Harry felt his heart swell with affection for Louis and his child.

 

-

 

Harry had been frequenting the café and spending all his free time at Louis’ house with him and Jamie for around six months when he was confronted very abruptly with his feelings. He had been working steadily in that time, churning out song after song, most of which were picked up by the artists that worked at his studio. It was one of those artists who brought it to his attention and it was one of them who helped him find a solution.

 

He’d been working one afternoon on finishing up a song he’d been working on for a couple of days and he decided to take a little break when Liam stepped into his office with two cups of tea. Harry had a strong preference for drinks from a certain store, but he guessed that this would have to do.

 

“How are you, Harry?” Liam asked after they’d sat together for a bit, sipping their drinks. “Have you been… alright, lately?”

 

Harry frowned at Liam, confused and trying to communicate it through his face. Liam just stared at him until Harry furrowed his eyebrows, and that made him elaborate.

 

“What you’ve been writing lately is different. Compared to what you used to write, I mean,” Liam explained. Harry was still confused. “You’ve been writing some pretty specific lyrics, and I don’t mean to say that you can’t write songs from a different perspective, but they seem really passionate and personal.”

 

Harry got out his phone and typed into his speech-to-text app to ask Liam to show him.

 

Liam looked over Harry’s shoulder to what he’d been working on and skimmed it, then pointed to a section of lyrics Harry had just written.

 

“ _ Same lips red, same eyes blue _ ,” he began. “ _ Same white shirt, couple more tattoos _ . This seems pretty specific.”

 

Harry shrugged, absolutely not thinking about his favourite blue eyes and red lips.  _ It just sounded nice _ , the rigid computerized voice of his app told Liam.

 

“If you say so,” Liam said, entirely not convinced. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were in love.”

 

Harry was struck by the realization like a ton of bricks. How did he not realize that he’d fallen in love with Louis?

 

-

 

It had taken Harry a month to put his plan together and to have it ready to pull off. He’d written a song for Louis (on purpose, this time!) and had spent weeks rehearsing with Liam and Zayn so that everything would be perfect. The worst part was that Harry was horrible at keeping secrets, ever since he was a child he could never even last until his mum’s birthday without telling her what her gift was. This was on a whole other level, and Harry was so scared of accidentally letting on that he had a surprise in store for Louis that he more or less began avoiding Louis all together.

 

It got so bad that Louis even texted him three days after he began The Plan worrying that he was starving himself because he hadn’t been in to the café for food in that time. Harry assured him that he was fine, and made sure to text Louis more frequently to convince him that he was eating and sleeping and just too busy at work to go to the café. Louis, too sweet for his own good, even asked Harry if he wanted him to visit him at the studio with tea and a sandwich and he had to backpedal and tell him that Jesy had started trying out new recipes on him and was keeping him fed.

 

The day that The Plan was to go down, Harry hadn’t slept, couldn’t eat, and threw up water and bile more than once leading up to it. Zayn and Liam were there for him, coaching him through his anxiety and encouraging him that this would work out for him. For him and Louis. Harry nodded and sniffed and told them that it was time.

 

Harry made an appearance at the café for the first time in a few days, and when Niall saw Harry walk in, he lit up. “I’ll go get Lou!” he exclaimed, hurrying back into the back room to tell Louis that Harry was in the shop. The worst thing was, Niall didn’t even know about The Plan. He just knew that Louis would be that happy to see Harry after only a few days apart. It made Harry feel more confident in what he was about to do.

 

Louis emerged from the back room with a radiant smile on his face, and that helped, knowing that he was in love with the more beautiful person on earth. It made him sure about putting everything on the line for him now.

 

“Hey Haz,” Louis said, voice pitched up a little in confusion as he noticed the guitar case on Harry’s back. Harry didn’t say a word, just swung his bag down off his shoulder and carefully took out his guitar. As he slung the strap over his body and grabbed a pick out of his pocket, Louis’ look of confusion only grew. Harry could understand why, what with Harry being mute and therefore unable to sing along while he played.

 

He began strumming and he heard the bell above the café door jingle as Zayn and Liam stepped into the café. Louis’ attention darted to them for a moment and he went to say hello, but it was drowned out by them as they began singing.

 

Louis’ confused look stayed on his face as Zayn started the first verse, crooning about hands and ships and waves framed as obstacles and adversity. Liam took over for the second verse, whose lyrics carried on the theme of struggling, moreso with words and writing but with more of an urgent feel -  _ don’t wanna wait til it’s gone _ .

 

They came in together on the chorus, perfect melodies that they frequently achieved as a vocal duo. Harry watched Louis’ face while he played and he saw the second that Louis  _ got it _ . His browline softened and his eyes widened and his jaw slackened and Harry had to close his eyes while he played because he was so nervous for Louis’ reaction to his confession.

 

With his eyes closed Harry could do nothing but think about the lyrics he’d written and his feelings for the man that had inspired them. He felt like he had just been existing before - taking up space and filling days with work. But when he’d met Louis, his life had so much more purpose. Louis took care of him and fortified him and once Harry got to the point where he accepted his feelings and understood what Louis was to him, he was all in. He didn’t care, he wasn’t scared, of lo-o-o-ove.

 

Zayn and Liam sang the rest of the song while Harry’s eyes were closed and when the final strum rang out Harry was definitely afraid to open his eyes. A bit ironic, given the flat out fearless confession he’d just delivered, but he thought he was allowed to hold onto this last second of safety before he could possibly be faced with rejection.

 

He heard the quick footsteps from across the room and opened his eyes the second that Louis reached him and cradled Harry’s face in his hands. He leaned up on his toes and pulled Harry down and kissed him, a dry press of lips that was no less fateful than any other kiss Harry had had in his life. Harry gasped and let his guitar hang off the strap so he could put his hands on Louis, wrapping his arms around Louis’ smaller frame as best he could with the guitar crushed between them.

 

Zayn, Liam, and Niall teased him about this later but at the time he barely even noticed that Liam came over and unhooked one end of Harry’s guitar strap. He carefully removed Harry’s guitar from between them and Harry closed the gap, his arm sliding around Louis’ waist and pulling him in against his chest. Louis hummed happily into their kiss and Harry was a second from lifting him up on the counter and snogging him senseless when Niall let out a loud whoop from behind the counter, startling them apart.

 

“Fucking  _ finally _ !” he shouted, doing a little jig. Harry puffed out a laugh and Louis buried his face in Harry’s chest and mumbled about how he was never going to live this down. Harry couldn’t find it in himself to care, and he watched Louis give Niall the finger before Harry pulled him in for another, deeper kiss, wandering hands be damned.


End file.
